


Reunion.

by GiiWrxtes



Series: Death Is Not Linear [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Afterlife, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Wilbur Soot, Spoilers for Tommy's 1/3 stream, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, fuck you ao3 make Mexican Dream a character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiiWrxtes/pseuds/GiiWrxtes
Summary: Conscious wasn't clear, Tommy couldn't remember anything. He was dead, therefore in the afterlife. People were with him, they helped him.He didn't know who they were. Tommy could have made a guess but he wouldn't. He'd find out soon enough.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, It's technically Mexican Dream :/, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Death Is Not Linear [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192001
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	Reunion.

Tommy shouldn't have opened his eyes after his head was slammed into a wall by Dream. He shouldn't have been capable of feeling every single bruise and ache from where he had been punched several times over. 

Tommy should not have been able to feel. His body was supposed to be numb. Death was supposed to be eternal bliss not the same pain he felt when Dream punched him over 

and over

and over

and over

and over

and over

again. 

He was supposed to be hugged by a gentle nothingness as his body dispersed from the world and left everything behind. 

Respawning never left him waiting to weep from the arrow that sent him plummeting in the ocean or the sword that pierced him in the final control room. The fists that sent him tumbling into the wall immobilizing him until he couldn't even hear his own shouts and pleas left him feeling as if he wouldn't have enough tears. 

That was how he felt now. 

Not a dull ache from phantom pains. 

Not nothing as he ceased to be. 

But no. Instead opening up his eyes felt impossible. The world was turning on itself even if he couldn't see the floor. His chest ached and blood was in his mouth. He was out of breath. When Tommy finally opened his eyes, there was white. Someone might have said something, he wasn't too sure. The ringing in his ears drowned everything out. 

It was not peaceful, not death or a respawn. 

Dream could still be beating him up. It felt like that. 

He fell back asleep. He knew he was asleep because the pain stopped. 

Tommy liked sleep. It was the eternal rest he had been promised. If he was dead he might as well sleep for as long as possible. Maybe that was all he could do and all that was the light at the end of the tunnel. 

  
Peace.

Rest. 

Nothing. 

Euphoria. 

Sleep. 

  
Tommy dreamt. 

He couldn't remember what he dreamt. 

Maybe it was about masses of swearing from Ghostbur.

Maybe it was about the smashes of a bottle that fell from Schlatt's hands. 

Maybe it was about some angry yells in Spanish.

Maybe it was about a hand carding through his hair. 

Maybe it was about the sting of a potion being pressed on the worst of his wounds. 

Maybe it was about Mexican Dream. 

  
He couldn't dream. 

You can't dream when your dead.

Was he even sleeping?

What even is sleep when you are in the after life. Aren't you always in the state of dreaming? 

It was too hard to think about. Pushing past the cotton for more than a second was fruitless. Anytime Tommy seemed to grasp onto his consciousness it would slip sending him straight back into the clouds. 

It kept on going. In and out. 

In and out. 

Conscious wasn't clear, Tommy couldn't remember anything. He was dead, therefore in the afterlife. People were with him, they helped him. 

He didn't know who they were. Tommy could have made a guess but he wouldn't. He'd find out soon enough. 

Unlike common thoughts, death was a complete and utter scam. Wilbur got stabbed with a sword then fell through a whole in the sky. Still bleeding and not mentally stable. Peace his ass because his room mate was the ex president of the country he just blew up who would not stop coughing. 

He passed out soon after and woke up to Schlatt complaining about the sword wound not healing despite the healing potions. Apparently he was bleeding all over his carpets but nothing would stop it. The other wounds had healed, leaving him with the fatal wound. 

They discussed it at some point of the eternity.

( "Do you have any idea why this damn wound won't heal? I'd rather not feel a sting every time I move"

"You think I prefer only smelling toast any more than you do? Do you know how annoying it is? I cook some pork and all I smell is toast? Do you think I enjoy that?"

"At least you can smell something. The void is sensory deprivation one on one." 

"Yeah, like you got the worse side affects. You're use to the sting. The ground wobbles when I move!" 

"You're right. Not being able to hear you unless I focus is a benefit." 

"I'm sorry what?" 

Wilbur kept on walking )

The first time Wilbur wasn't the one falling from the sky he was a more empathetic man. No use holding grudges in hell and all that. 

They had wandered over to where the person had fallen to see Dream. Or a look a like. Considering the moustache and stupid hat, it was a parody of the admin. There body was a bullet wound in his abandum. No other wounds, must have been quick and easy. 

Wilbur wrapped the Mexican Dream in bandages and left to tell Schlatt they had a new quote roommate unquote. 

They ignored him on the most part when they could. It still felt as if it were just the two of them. 

He thought it would be just the three of them for some time. 

A mad man. 

An alcoholic.

A drug dealer. 

Living in a scam they had signed up for with their own undoing's. 

Call it death, call it heaven but it was hell. Never a moment of quiet. In some strange sort of I hate this person but I'd rather not be here with anyone else way it became normal. Schlatt would drink if he found a mysterious thing of alcohol. Slur words as he relished in the lack of repercussions. In his moments of sobriety they pissed each other off, butting heads as a form of entertainment. Mexican Dream would barge in with guns blazing at any sign of action. His morals might have been slapped into him even more by that dude. 

Wilbur looked back. He thought back on his failures as a brother, a president and a leader of the revolution. 

If only he hadn't let the paranoia eat him up. If he looked past the situation to see the wider picture, maybe if he had listened to Tommy's pleas to not blow the place up to smithereens. If he had seen past himself. If he hadn't wanted the plaster off then and there. If he got out of his own bubble of pity. 

It was too late at that point. All he could do was watch the plains of earth as the room grew and moulded for those close to death.

He never met Jack Manifold even when it eventually got too the afterlife he died. Man crawled out of hell and honestly, good for him. Who was Wilbur to say stop living, join me in eternal suffering. 

So they vibed forever and never. 

  
The second time someone fell, Wilbur recognized them instantly.

How could he not when his brother fell from the sky and into the ground of the void. 

Actually, there would have been a fair excuse seeing as he was beaten bloody. A black eyes spurted from his wounds and blood as coming from his mouth and nose. Every limb was purple or red but it wasn't until Wilbur tried to get him off of the hard floor that he felt it. The dent that must have dealt the killing blow. 

Not that Tommy would have survived with other wounds and malnourishment. It was already horrifying but at least the majority of his injuries could be fixed. 

"Schlatt!" He yelled calling the goat man too him. 

He turned around with the bottle of wine in hand, "What the fuck Wilbur? Are you trying to burst my eardrums?" 

  
The wine shattered on the floor when he saw why he had been called. 

Mexican Dream appeared at the sound and stared at Tommy's limp body, "Well that's no bueno." 

"Well could you two help me?" 

They hurried over, inspecting the wounds. 

"Pass me the alcohol bottle Schlatt." 

"And why would I do that?" 

"It helps disinfect the wounds." 

"So do healing potions." 

"Do we have any of them? No! We have plenty of your booze so hand it over!"

"You can just summon them! How else do you reckon I've been getting it?" 

"Oh." 

A regeneration potion formed in his hands as Wilbur poured it over the wounds. They knit together and dissolve like water washing it off a stream. Tommy's body limpens more than it already was as the pain completely eases away. Despite some of the potion being on the dent it was still there. 

Tommyinnit died to a skull fracture, probably being the victim to a physical assault. 

It was so normal. So, average. His life had been a tragedy and he didn't even get a proper send off. No one to hear his cries or no one who cared enough.

Wilbur looked down at the passed out boy beside him. 

Schlatt was looking from far enough and Mexican Dream was staring off into the distance. It was a second of peace they seemed to have. It just had to come from this. 

Wilbur carded his fingers through his brothers hair. It was greasy but it was there. He kept going, pulling at the knots, slowly untangling the strands from one another. When it was straightened, he kept going. The action grounding him and doing no harm to the younger.

The group of men stayed like that until there was a twitch of movement. 

"He moved!" 

"So? Is he awake?" 

There was no reaction to Wilbur waving his hand back and forth. 

"Nope." 

"Tell me when there's actually something then." 

"What?" He snarled. 

Schlatt sighed, "You can't die here. I don't know why we're even bothering." 

"Because it still hurts! Do you think he's going to wake up as if nothing happened from a skull fracture Mr I only smell toast!"

"And so what? He's going to deal with it anyways?" 

Wilbur could have thrown himself onto Schlatt. He could have snapped his neck and the goat would have to feel every second of it healing. That was what the goat deserved, for all his sins he got off so lightly. So so lightly. 

They drifted back into the silence. 

Tommy showed signs of waking up on and off. 

A fidget.

Nothing. 

A herd jerk. 

Nothing. 

Untellable words. 

Nothing. 

A clutch at his hand

Nothing

Opening his eyes. 

Not nothing

  
"Wilbur?"

  
He almost crashed Tommy in a hug. 

  
"Hey Tommy, took you a while to wake up." He slipped into the elder brother role instinctively. How could he not? 

"Yeah? I bet you took even longer!" 

"I didn't." 

"You're lying to me?" 

"What do I gain from lying too you?"

"Hmph."

  
That was the last things they said. After that it was just letting the fact they were together sink in. Tommy sat in his arms. His head tucked under his chin. 

Tommy basked in the comfort that he was not alone. That the afterlife was not a void. Now he was with someone, someone who cared, he never wanted to leave. He felt safe and warm and how long had it been since he had the time to be vulnerable. It weighed him down and he couldn't remember when his body had felt so heavy. His breaths evened out and Tommy knew he was falling back asleep but couldn't bring himself to care. 

Wilbur could feel the anger being pushed down. He wanted to punch someone but he wanted to stay where he was. There was a reassurance that Tommy was with him but a dread that he was dead. It hadn't settled his mind was processing how even after defeating Dream he still ended up by him. Logically, he wished Tommy wasn't here but emotionally, oxytocin was pumped into his blood stream. 

Maybe it was hours before he realised Tommy had fallen asleep. Maybe it had been milliseconds. 

Wilbur picked him up and carried him to the shack they made at some point during the afterlife. A void was not the best place to stay in after all.

Schlatt looked at him when he dropped him onto the only bed he had. 

"That's my bed." "Ey man! Is he awake?"

"Summon another one. He woke up." 

"He's asleep again now." 

"He woke up, like a usual sleep. Probably still tired so be prepared for the mass of questions when he wakes up?" 

"I have to deal with this? C'mon I already did it twice. Pull your own weight."

Wilbur gritted his teeth, "I am." 

"Then why do I have to do it?"

"Because you've been here longer." 

"Oh suck it up! You were what, two days after me?" 

  
Tommy made a slight whine and Wilbur ignored Schlatt. 

  
"We'll deal with this later." 

Huff. 

Petty arguments aside. Who knew how long they had until the green strings tore Tommy away and who knew if the opening would let them tumble through as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :D
> 
> I'm kind of skipped the denial stage and went straight to bargaining and haven't left yet. 
> 
> So, this follows through a few of my headcanons, mainly that you go to the afterlife exactly as you were when you died and your constantly dyeing from what killed you. Thus why Schlatt is forever smelling toast and Wilbur hears everything as if he's underwater etc... It's also other wounds healed on anyone else but not Tommy. Man got beaten to death, it's all killing him. 
> 
> Please don't take the symptoms as realistic, give me some creative license here.


End file.
